


Lucidity

by confessa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Jonerys reunion, One-Shot, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, i don't even know what this is, maybe? - Freeform, people argue about how Jon and Dany should or would react to one another so this is my take on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 06:45:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confessa/pseuds/confessa
Summary: He found her in the ruins of Old Valyria.Would you kill her again, he had asked himself, put duty to the realm and your family above everything else if you had to once more?





	Lucidity

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I typed up cos I was bored. It's my take on the most realistic mindset that Jon would have if he saw Daenerys again. Obviously, much of that would depend on which version of Daenerys returned, so I've simply chosen the Daenerys before she committed genocide. 
> 
> I'm not really intending to continue this because I'm not really interested in exploring the showverse' ending. At most, this may turn into a drabble collection post-resurrection.
> 
> **Warning: Jon is not really in a good state of mind, and this is written from his perspective. If that sort of thing might upset you, please take care and move away if you need to!**

He found her in the ruins of Old Valyria.

In another time, he might have gazed on her presence in wonder. But Jon Snow had himself been resurrected, he still bore the marks of his murder, and he had seen dead men walking. That Daenerys Targaryen would be alive was simply another notch in the long list of fantastical things that had happened in his life.

He watched her from afar, at first, hidden behind a pillar. Her silver hair had been shorn short, barely approaching her shoulders, and her garb was simple, closer to those of the smallfolk than of the queen she had been. A leather belt cinched the loose, cotton tunic at her waist and her boots were worn. She looked as beautiful as ever.

Many emotions had warred inside him ever since the Red Priestess had found him in the far North and revealed Daenerys’ resurrection to him. Relief, horror, guilt. What woman would he find, he had thought – the Dany he had known, or the broken one he had murdered? Would she have regained her mind, would she be like the child she had regressed to in her last moments, or would she swear revenge on those who had wronged her?

And no matter who the woman was that he found, the question remained – what would he do? _Would you kill her again, _he had asked himself, _put duty to the realm and your family above everything else if you had to once more?_

The answer came to him easily as he stood there, gazing upon the woman he had loved, still loved. He would not be able to execute the same murder twice. Whatever happened, he would stay by Daenerys’ side, whether to protect her or to protect others from her. Keep her far away from those would could harm her and who she could harm. There was nothing else in his life left to live for. The battles of the years past had worn him down until there was nothing left. He was but an empty husk. And if that empty husk were to spend the rest of his days guarding a mad woman, he would welcome it.

In the end, it was Ghost that alerted her to his presence. Ironic, given how quiet he usually was. Perhaps he sensed Jon’s reluctance, no, inability to approach, because the great direwolf stepped down onto the ledge below where Jon stood, causing a small shower of rocks to fall with him.

Daenerys turned around. Her gaze first landed on the white wolf first then, as if she would always know where he was, right on him.

Even from his distance, he could tell that she paled.

“Jon,” he thought he heard her whisper.

_Please don’t be mad, please be Dany again_, his mind begged, and Jon’s eyes burned with unshed tears as he slowly approached. He took off his sword belt, slow and steady movements aimed at reassuring her of his peaceful intentions, and laid it on the ground. He stopped metres from her.

“Dany,” he breathed.

She winced and turned away, the short strands of her hair swaying. They stood there, silent. Seconds passed by. Jon waited, for he had no right to speak, and not the courage to do so either. _Please_, he continued to beg, _please come back to me._

“How did you find me?” she finally asked, though she still did not look back at him. “Who told you?”

“A Red Priestess. She called herself Solara. She told me you were here.”

“And who did you tell?”

“No one knows, except Tormund. I…Dany, please, look at me.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said harshly, but he heard the tears in her voice. He had heard her speak in tears before, many times, he had heard her beg…it had replayed in his head many a night since then. “You…why are you here?”

“Look at me first,” he said. “I need you to look at me first, before I answer anything.”

He had not meant to command her but it came out as one anyway in his impatience. It was eating at him inside, not knowing her state of mind, not knowing what he needed to prepare for. It took a few more moments before she finally acquiesced. As he had expected, tears streamed down her face. And in her eyes…in those wide, expressive eyes of hers that he had loved so much…

“Dany…” he exhaled, relief making his knees weak. He knew that look. The guilt and the anguish. Without thinking, without any plan as to what he wanted to do, he moved to her. She stiffened, but let him approach, and he slid his arms around her body. “Dany, it’s all right.”

A strangled cry escaped her throat. “All right? _All right? _You know what I did. What I became. I murdered them. Children. Even the children.”

Her knees gave way then and he caught her body easily. She weighed so light. Even lighter than at her death, when she had been emaciated from lack of food and rest.

“I killed them all, burned them,” she sobbed in his arms, “not caring who they were. I hear their screams. They haunt me every single moment, awake or asleep. I don’t know why I am here. Maybe this is my hell.”

He wished he could tell her no. He wished he could reassure her otherwise. But Jon remembered the coldness of death and the bleakness of the life he returned to. He had thought, for those sweet short weeks with Daenerys, on a boat away from everything else, that perhaps he could find happiness in the second chance he had been given. He had learned better since then. There was no happiness in this life. He had been brought back for a purpose by whatever god or gods that governed the realm of the dead and living, and then he had been discarded. Only pain, loneliness and suffering remained. And so it would be for Daenerys.

She drew back in his arms after her cries subsided. They were seated on the ground now, Jon on his haunches and Daenerys on her knees. She looked at him then, right in the eyes, hand coming up to rest on his cheek. Jon allowed himself to ease into her gentle touch.

“And you killed me,” she whispered. “You kissed me then you killed me.”

His heart felt like lead in his chest. “Yes,” he said, for there was nothing else to say, “I did.”

Her hand gripped his neck then. She was not strong enough to hurt him. He almost wished she was. “Are you here to kill me again?” she asked, expression unreadable.

“Do you want me to?” he replied, for he knew better than anyone else in the world what it felt like to be pulled back into a life of suffering.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I want you to end my suffering.”

He wished he could. He wished he could deliver up everything she wanted in the world to her. But he knew that, just beyond the crumbling walls around them, the Red Priestesses awaited. They were not done with Daenerys Targaryen. He could thrust Longsword right through her heart again and they would simply raise her once more. The gods took what they wanted. It was not for mere mortals like them to choose when they wished to leave this world.

“I’m sorry,” he said, apologising for this and all his countless other failures. “I’m sorry.”

For the first time that evening, Daenerys looked at him in disgust. He could have laughed. For all that he had wronged her, it was this that earned her scorn. He accepted it. Let it wash over him, flow through him. At least it filled him up with something. At least he felt less hollow inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Any similarities to the ending of Neon Genesis Evangelion is completely unintended. However, I realised this carries very much the same vibe as Shinji and Asuka on that beach. IDEA FOR AN AU? 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm going to disappear into Don't Let Me Fall for happiness after this depressing shit.


End file.
